


If Light is in Your Heart, You Will Find the Way Home

by emeraldsage85



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldsage85/pseuds/emeraldsage85
Summary: After a very long day of looking for work, Bucky comes home to Steve.





	If Light is in Your Heart, You Will Find the Way Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Diamond_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamond_Raven/gifts).
  * Inspired by [To Get Lost Is To Learn The Way](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11515878) by [Diamond_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamond_Raven/pseuds/Diamond_Raven). 



> This story was inspired by a scene in Diamond_Raven's To Get Lost is to Learn the Way. She has graciously allowed me to post this after I got bit by a rabid plot bunny while reading her story. Please visit her story and read it! It's really great!

February 7, 1938

 Bucky Barnes shuffles along the street with only one goal in mind. _Keep moving, gotta keep moving,_ he thinks as he trudges through the storm, unable to feel his fingers balled up into fists in his jacket pockets or his toes in his worn-out leather boots. Only just a few blocks more and he’ll make it home to Steve.

He’s been out all day, looking for work yet failing miserably at it. After getting laid off from his job at the factory he’s been desperately pounding the pavement, day after day, looking for something that will pay well enough to keep a roof over both his and Steve’s heads and food in their stomachs. It’s been nearly a week now and he’s getting worried. They won’t be able to survive on Steve’s wage from the grocery store alone.

_Just keep walking. Not far now._ Bucky’s exhausted. He hasn’t eaten all day because they’re low on food and he wants to make sure that Steve has enough to keep him well fed. Steve’s delicate health is a constant source of worry for Bucky and he doesn’t want to see his best friend get ill again, even it means that he has to go without. He’ll go through whatever personal hell it takes just to keep Steve healthy.

It’s dark now and the cold feels like an oppressive presence that he can’t shake. Snowflakes land on his head and his coat, soaking him to the skin. If their apartment wasn’t only a block away Bucky’s sure that he’d just lie down in the snow and freeze to death. It’s only the thought of going home to Steve that keeps him going. If he doesn’t turn up soon Steve will be worried.

When he finally arrives at their apartment the stairs look almost too daunting to climb. With great difficulty, Bucky lifts his frozen legs one at time and grabs the railing to help propel himself forward. He makes his way stiffly to their door and struggles to get his numb hand to co-operate enough to turn the knob. Inside it’s blessedly warm and the heat wraps itself around Bucky like a blanket, causing him to let out a quiet moan of relief. _See? You made it._

Steve’s standing at the stove with his back to Bucky, stirring something in a pot that’s got steam coming off of it. It smells good. “Hey, you’re back late,” Steve says, without turning around. Bucky can’t seem to make himself reply. It seems that his brain and his mouth are just as chilled as the rest of him. When he doesn’t receive an answer, Steve finally turns to look at Bucky and worry etches his fine features.

“What the hell, Buck, you’re frozen solid!” he says.

Bucky tries and fails to come up with some sort of smart remark but he’s simply too cold and exhausted for that. Steve pulls him further into the kitchen and begins unbuttoning his jacket. “You should have come home earlier. It’s too damn cold to be out in this weather and I was getting worried about you,” he admonishes.

“Sorry,” Bucky says hoarsely.

“It’s fine, don’t apologize. Christ, you’re soaked right through,” Steve chides as he unbuttons Bucky’s damp shirt and peels it from his body. He hangs it over a nearby chair. Bucky doesn’t move, just stands there and lets Steve divest him of all of the wet layers plastered to his skin until he’s down to his underwear. “Sit,” Steve says and pushes him into the nearest chair.

He disappears into the next room for a moment and then comes back with a blanket, which he wraps around Bucky’s shivering form. “Thanks,” he says softly. He wants to say something more, to apologize again for being so late, for coming back empty-handed, but he can’t form the words. Instead he watches as Steve lifts a pot off the top of the stove and sets it down on the kitchen table.

“I knew you’d be cold so I warmed up some water for you,” he says. He dips a cloth into the water and then says, “Give me your arm.”

Bucky extricates his left arm from beneath the blanket and dutifully holds it out. Steve wraps his artist’s fingers around Bucky’s wrist to keep him in place and then begins to wash the day’s accumulated filth from his skin. Bucky closes his eyes. He revels in the warmth finally touching his skin and only moves as directed. Steve washes Bucky’s other arm and then cleans his face before tossing the cloth back into the bucket.

 "Come on, let’s get you to bed. You look like you’re about to fall off that chair,” he says. Bucky makes a valiant effort to heave himself from the chair but pitches sideways into the table. “Here,” Steve says. He slots one thin arm around Bucky’s waist and start guiding him towards their bedroom.

Bucky tries not to lean on Steve too much. He wills himself to stay upright as he shuffles the few feet to the bedroom door. _Just like before, just a bit further._ His feet are still so numb that it feels almost impossible to move them but he concentrates on lifting them one at a time until he and Steve manage to stumble through the bedroom door together. Steve deposits Bucky on the mattress with a loud creaking of springs and immediately beings piling blankets on top of him.

Bucky groans as he tucks his frozen hands in close to his chest. Blood flow is slowly being restored to his extremities, bringing with it a horrible tingling sensation that blossoms into full-blown pain. Steve notices the way that Bucky’s holding himself taut, his whole body trembling, and he murmurs, “Buck, are you okay?”

“Hurts,” Bucky moans.

Without hesitation, Steve climbs into bed and curls himself protectively around his best friend. “You remember what my ma used to say about frostbite, right? It gets worse before it gets better,” he says sympathetically.

Bucky tries to bite back a gasp as he accidentally jostles his stinging fingers but what comes out is a sob instead. “Hurts so bad,” he whimpers and suddenly he’s crying, unable to hold back the great heaving sobs that burst out of his chest.

“I’m so sorry Buck. It’s gonna hurt for awhile,” Steve says softly. He takes one of Bucky’s frozen hands in his and gently begins rubbing. “I know it’s painful but just try to relax and just breathe. You always tell me that when I get upset and end up having an asthma attack, remember? Just breathe, in and out.”

Bucky’s got nothing to say to that. He’s so tired and so cold and so disappointed in himself that he can’t stop crying, even with Steve trying to calm him down. “S-sorry,” he manages to stutter out but his face crumples again and he lets another round of gasping sobs.

“It’s okay, don’t apologize. I know you’ve had a rough time of it lately but it’s going to get better. The two of us always manage to pull through, don’t we?” Steve says softly. He reaches out and gently swipes a tear from Bucky’s cheek with his thumb. When Bucky tries to turn his face away, feeling ashamed of himself for crying, Steve reaches out and grasps his chin, tilting his head back so they’re forced to meet eyes again.

“It’s okay to cry, Buck,” he murmurs. “Everybody does once in awhile and it doesn’t mean that you’re weak or nothin’. You’re the strongest and bravest person I know. When things are bad you always find a way to make it better. You always take care of me and you never complain, even when me being sick makes your life harder. You have no idea how much better my life is because of you. If you need to cry for a bit, then go ahead.”

Bucky’s weeping too hard to speak now, even if he wants to. He just lies there and cries his heart out, feeling Steve’s slender hands alternating between rubbing his stinging fingers and calmly wiping the tears from his face. Once Steve even kisses his cheek. He keeps telling Bucky that it’s going to be okay and gradually Bucky starts to believe it. They’ve come through worse than one of them being unemployed and still made it out okay so why shouldn’t this be any different?

It takes him a few minutes to get himself under control again but gradually Bucky manages it. His breathing goes from ragged to a regular rise and fall and the tears stop trickling down his cheeks. Suddenly his throat doesn’t feel quite so tight anymore. He just feels like he’s spent emotionally and physically, too exhausted to do much more than lie in bed forever with Steve curled up against him. After a few minutes, Steve says, “You gonna be okay, Bucky?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Are you starting to warm up or still feeling kind of chilly?” Steve asks.

“Better,” Bucky says. He can only seem to manage one or two word answers but Steve doesn’t press him. He just says that he’ll be back in a minute and disappears into the kitchen. When he comes back he’s got a bowl in his hands, carrying it by the rim to make sure that he doesn’t burn his fingers.

“Sit up,” Steve instructs. Bucky manages to push himself up with one shaking arm and then props himself against the wall for support. He tries to reach for the spoon sticking out the bowl but Steve knocks his hand away. He dips the spoon into the soup and then brings it to Bucky’s mouth. If this were any other time Bucky would complain that he isn’t a child and can feed himself but he can’t find the energy or the words to protest. Instead he just sits there and obediently opens his mouth as Steve feeds him, one spoonful at a time.

Finally when the bowl is empty and has been set aside on the night stand, Bucky finds the ability to form more complete sentences. “I didn’t find a job,” he admits, feeling very ashamed of himself and keeping his eyes downcast. “I looked all day and nobody’s hiring. I tried everywhere Stevie, even places I knew I wasn’t qualified for but I tried anyway. I’m so sorry. Things are lookin’ really bad right now and I just don’t know what to do.”

He half expects Steve to be annoyed or angry with him but when he raises his eyes his best friend only looks sympathetic. “Don’t worry about it tonight, Buck. You can try looking again tomorrow,” Steve reassures him.

“But what if I don’t find anything tomorrow? We won’t be able to pay the rent and we’re gettin’ low on food and if you get sick again-”

“Stop it,” Steve interrupts firmly, placing a hand on Bucky’s arm. “Don’t get yourself worked up about it right now. Just lie down and get some rest so you can get back out there tomorrow morning.” He reaches over and switches off the lamp on their bedside table, throwing the room mostly into darkness with only a sliver of light reaching in from the living room across the way.

Bucky doesn’t move from his spot on the bed. He just sits there and watches Steve turning away to retrieve the soup bowl from the night stand, his golden hair haloed in the light. __Lord, I love this man,__ Bucky thinks. The realization doesn’t scare or surprise him like it should; it’s as a comfortable as being wrapped in a warm blanket. As Steve gets up and heads for the door, he says, “Get some rest Buck. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Bucky carefully maneuvers himself until he’s lying down again and closes his eyes. How could he not have known? All this time he’s been out there looking for the right person, chasing a new dame every week, but what if the person for him isn’t a dame at all? What if they’ve been right in front of him all this time? That thought doesn’t terrify Bucky but he knows it should.

He knows what happens to queers. They either get arrested or end up in the loony bin and if either of those things happen he won’t be around to look out for Steve. There’s no alternative but to keep his mouth shut, to stuff those feelings deep down where nobody else can ever find them. Things are complicated enough for the two of them without Bucky confessing that he’s bent for his best friend and it’s unlikely that Steve would feel the same anyways. Tomorrow there will be another day of just trying to survive, followed by another and another. Bucky will do whatever it takes to keep the both of them safe.

The door creaks as it opens but there’s no light this time. Bucky listens to the rustling of Steve getting undressed and then feels the mattress dip next to him. They’re close enough to touch but to Bucky there might as well be a million miles between them, keeping him from embracing the man that he’s finally realized he loves. Bucky wishes he could say something. Instead he lies there and listens as Steve’s breathing evens out and becomes deeper.

 

August 26, 2015

“Are you ready?” Steve asks as they step through the doors together. 

“Ready” Bucky confirms. He reaches out with his flesh hand to take one of Steve’s.

The weather is hot and humid but thankfully the court house has air conditioning, otherwise Bucky would feel terrified of the whole carefully arranged affair melting away in the heat. Their friends are waiting for them inside, dressed to the nines and excited for the ceremony to begin. Natasha looks particularly striking in a gray silk dress. Bucky gives her a hug and says, “Thanks for coming.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world Barnes,” she replies.

The ceremony goes off without a hitch and all too soon Bucky finds himself standing in front of Steve with tears of pure happiness in his eyes as he recites his vows. “I, James Buchanan Barnes, take you, Steven Grant Rogers, to be my husband from this day forward; for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until the end of the line,” he says, amending the last line to something he said to Steve another life ago.

He slides the ring onto his husband’s finger and feels excitement flutter in his chest like a small terrified butterfly. After all they’ve been through, all of the pain, sorrow, and fear that threatened to tear them apart, they managed to beat the odds and come out the other side into a time and place where two men can openly love one another and pledge it publicly. Bucky would do it all over again if he had a choice because it all leads to this moment, right here, right now.

“I, Steven Grant Rogers, take you James Buchanan Barnes, to be my husband from this day forward; for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, and through whatever else the universe throws our way, until the day I die,” Steve says in a voice choked with emotion.

As Steve slides the ring onto his finger, Bucky looks into icy blue eyes and knows that this is where he’s always been meant to be.


End file.
